Hard Headed Woman of Mine
by Jo Z. Pierce
Summary: Curtis once explained to Elwood that there are just two kinds of women in this world. The question is, what do they have to do with cars and music?
1. Woman 1

I don't own the Blues Brothers or the music. All I own is the love.

Story originally submitted to the 2007 Yuletide Obscure Fandom Fanfic Exchange.

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**Woman #1: In Black and White**

_St. Helen's of the Blessed Shroud Orphanage, _

_Calumet City, Illinois._

_November 10, 1963, 3:40 pm _

The old coal burning furnace kicked in again. It was loud, and in need of repair, but at least it was still working. It was on Curtis' list of things to do before the harsh Chicago winter set in. As the janitor of St. Helen's of the Blessed Shroud Orphanage, Curtis was awfully busy keeping that old building running.

But no matter how busy he got, he always had time to spend with anyone who loved music.

"Elwood! Come on in, boy!" A lanky white boy stood in the doorway, and Curtis waved him in. He motioned towards the rickety old table in the basement room which effectively became his home.

"Sit down, Elwood!" Curtis was genuinely pleased to see the boy, but he was concerned. Elwood was alone. It wasn't often that the 9 year old boy came to see him when he was alone. When he did, that usually meant his best friend - now brother - Jake was in some sort of pickle. While Jake's mischief making always worried Curtis, he was more concerned with the affects they would have on the young and impressionable Elwood.

"Where's Jake?" Curtis asked, as if he didn't know. He held out a chair for his young and quiet friend.

Elwood settled, and the question went unanswered. Curtis repeated himself. "Where's Jake?"

Finally, Elwood replied. "With the Penguin."

Curtis let out a deep sigh. He was a handsome man, sporting a thin mustache. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses, and a black suit and tie. It seemed too formal for a janitor. Still, it worked well on the thirty-something year old man. He wasn't a tall man, but with his neat clothing, and his fatherly demeanor, he had a presence that made him seem bigger than anyone Elwood knew. Anyone, except The Penguin.

"You know you shouldn't be calling Sister Mary that, Elwood."

"But that's what everybody calls her," the boy innocently answered, as a simple matter of fact.

"No, son. That's what _Jake_ calls her."

"But, she looks like a penguin."

Curtis sighed again, as he sat down across the table and handed the boy a pile of old magazines. Elwood's long fingers immediately pulled out a copy of _Motor Trend_ magazine.

"So, he's with Sister Mary, again," Curtis continued. "Why?"

The boy shrugged, and flipped through the magazine. He'd read through this magazine at least a dozen times before. He made no more than a quick glance at the 1961 Continental in baby blue. Then he quickly turned the pages until he found the black Thunderbird. His finger traced it's outline, as if he were drawing the photograph right there on the page.

Curtis knew that prying would get him nowhere. He leaned over the table to look at the magazine, too.

"You sure do like those cars. Don't you, son?"

"Yeah-up..." His voice was unsure and hesitant, but not because he didn't know what his

answer was. Elwood simply wondered if he'd ever get a chance to ride in one of those big cars himself.

"Now, I bet this year's magazine's got a Rambler! I'll see if I can get you a new issue."

His voice trailed off. He knew that bribes wouldn't get him any more information than a simple

question would. With a new approach, he continued.

"How bout a little bit of The Howlin' Wolf?" Curtis asked. Elwood shrugged again, feigning disinterest, as he flipped through a few more pages. Curtis understood, and pushed himself away from the crickety table and pulled a record out of a makeshift bookshelf. He read the label on a black disc and smiled, gently placing it on his record player, and carefully positioning the needle.

"This music, Elwood, is gonna last forever," Curtis predicted. "It'll stand the test of time. Listen here. You just mark my words."

The music started low. Competing with the furnace, Curtis turned the volume up. While standing, he grabbed a bottle off the shelf. The bottle said Royal Crown Cola, but the color was off, and the cap was clearly not secure. Still, the appearance was convincing enough, if anyone happened into his private party. Taking a sip, he sat back down at the table.

Curtis smiled as his young friend's head began to nod, in synch with the music.

"So, now, what's this?" Curtis asked a very serious Elwood, as he pointed at the record player. If Elwood wasn't going to be social, at least this would be a learning experience.

Still nodding to the music, Elwood looked up and fixed his gaze on the wall. He stared in deep concentration, as if it were the most important test of his young life. He had completely forgotten about the cars from the magazine, as his brows came together in thought.

"Come on. You know it, boy."

Without turning to the man, the right side of Elwood's lips curled into a faint smile. He had walked into the room, nervous and a bit scared being on his own. Now, with the music from the record player, he once again found some of his confidence.

"It's in E," Elwood said, without a doubt in his mind.

"Good," Curtis said, as he took another sip from the R.C. Cola bottle. "Very good, Elwood." But the test had just begun.

"Now play it."

For a moment, the boy looked a bit nervous. "But..." he began, in protest.

"Go on, now." Curtis motioned with his hands, as if trying to move him along. "Go on. You know it... Just follow along, as best you can."

The boy clumsily fumbled into his right hand pocket with his skinny fingers, and slowly pulled

out three old, second-hand harmonicas. Nervous, and bit hesitant, he made his choice, and put the metal to his lips. Without turning his head, his eyes shifted towards Curtis, who offered a small nod of approval.

Elwood waited for the rift to begin again.

Curtis was amazed that a young boy, not quite ten years old, could bring the music to life the way he did. The breath. The draw. Each in perfect time. And Elwood made each his own. Curits' smile widened, knowing that this boy - who would be in bed by nine - could live like the wolf, and moan at midnight, through the music.

As the song finished, Curtis clapped his hand on the table five times, then gently used the cola

bottle as its echo. His applause, and his enthusiasm, brought a big smile to Elwood's face.

"That was good, Elwood!" Curtis cackled. "Real good! You should play that with the

Ravens, in your next show."

Elwood smiled at the review. He looked up at Curtis, the black man's broad, wide smile overpowering the thin mustache he wore. Elwood shook out his harp, drying it off, and placed it back in his pocket.

Again, Curtis turned towards the wall and lowered the sound on the record player. He pulled another bottle off the shelf, popped off the cap, and handed it to the young musician. Elwood took it in his hand and cautiously sniffed it, with a little grimace of disappointment.

"Now, Elwood," Curtis said, returning to the table once again. His voice was serious. "What's wrong, son? What happened to Jake? I can't help you boys out if you don't tell me the truth."

Elwood took a long sip of the cola, carefully calculating his response.

Curtis sighed again, this time in frustration and concern.

"Did the teacher catch him cheating on a test?" Curtis guessed, working with the laws of probabilities. Elwood sat motionless and emotionless.

Raising his voice, just a bit, Curtis pressed on.

"Was he using that mirror, again?"

As hard as Elwood tried, the boy couldn't control himself. He broke a smile. Curtis drew himself in, like a secret confidant, and presented his ear to Elwood. The two looked at each other and laughed together.

"Nah," the boy finally answered, breaking down under the mock interrogation. "Jake don't write backwards no more."

Curtis placed his large hand on the boys slight shoulder, nodding and chuckling with his favorite young friend.

"No, he don't... Matter of fact, _he don't write at all_!" Curtis joked, then laughed, as the two took sips from their bottles.

Curtis tried not to look too long at the boy, knowing how nervous he could sometimes be, especially when outside of Jake's company. He worried about the younger of the two "brothers."

Depending on how you looked at it, you'd think Jake might just be good for Elwood. Jake started the band called The Ravens, which was no doubt a boost for Elwood's confidence. It was also the perfect way for both boys to channel both their energies and musical talent. It was the best damned pre-teen blues band in all of Chicago.

And through the Ravens, the boys started something. It was something meaningful... something amazing.

But even if Jake was good for Elwood, Jake was really bad for the rest of society. Curtis decided as soon as he set eyes on those boys that it was his duty to help steer them along the right path. What the penguin couldn't do with a ruler, he'd do with music.

"Well, then, son, how can I help you boys? The Raven's got a gig coming up in... what... two days? And as good as you are on that there harp, you gotta have your lead singer." He winked at Elwood, hoping he'd play along.

"Elwood, what can I do to get him off the hook with Sister Mary?"

With a deep sigh, Elwood closed his eyes tightly, as if not seeing Curtis would make him less likely to be caught spilling the proverbial beans.

"The Penguin caught him..." Slowly, Elwood opened his eyes cautiously, to gauge Curtis' reaction.

"The Penguin caught him... with a magazine."

Curtis nodded, knowingly, then asked if it was like the kind of magazine that Elwood was reading. Elwood looked at the table, and quickly shook his head.

"Well..." Curtis asked, scratching his head "what kind of a magazine was it?" As soon as the

words slipped past his lips, he realized he asked the wrong thing. He knew what Jake was up to, and why it would bring the Wrath of Sister Mary Stigmata down on him like the true fist of God. There was no need to make Elwood spell it out for him.

Elwood squirmed uncomfortably.

"It had ladies in it, didn't it?" Curtis asked quickly, wanting to end the conversation, almost before it started. Elwood nodded his head, and then turned back to the pages of _Motor Trend_.

Curtis reached over once again and patted Elwood on the shoulder. "It's ok, son. I understand."

Curtis reached around, and turned the volume of the record player up, just a few notches, as the

two sat silently, looking at 1961 model automobiles.

Without warning or prodding, Elwood spoke up.

"Why, Curtis?"

Confused, the janitor repeated the question back to Elwood. "Why what?"

"I don't get it." Elwood's words were innocent. "Why would Jake be looking at those ... ?"

Elwood slowly lifted his hands, and held them - palms up - in front of his chest, as if he were holding two cantaloupes.

Curtis tried to control himself, holding in his laughter. He had to turn his back to hide his efforts. He pretended to cough, as he composed himself. Clearing his throat, he turned to Elwood again.

"Elwood, weren't you ever... curious, son?" Curtis asked, gently. "Don't you want to know what

those ladies looked like, too?"

Elwood shrugged. "They're just some ladies...without clothes..."

"Give it a little time, Elwood, and you might wanna find yourself one of those ladies."

Elwood shook his head. "I'd rather have a Cadillac... or a microphone..."

Curtis laughed again. "If you do get a Caddy... _or_ a microphone, you'll have nothing _but_ ladies, followin' you all over town!"

Elwood looked a little confused.

"Listen up, Elwood. There's lots worse things in this world than a pretty lady."

"But I don't get it, Curtis. If the Good Lord made girls so... good lookin..." Elwood hesitated, unsure of the logic. "If... God?...made it so that guys want to look at them...then why is the Penguin so mad when we _do_ look at them?"

Curtis scratched his head. How on earth did a little music lesson turn into Elwood's first discussion of women and men? Of the birds and the bees? Of the perils of love, and the tragedy of heartbreak?

Then again, wasn't that what music was always about, anyway?

"You see, Elwood. It's like with Adam and Eve. Adam was tempted by Eve... you see... and the Sister's just trying to... make sure that Jake... that you boys..." His voice trailed off, and he let out a small sigh. Suddenly, the young boy seemed wise beyond his years, and Curtis didn't quite have an answer.

"So, you're sayin that the ladies are just gonna lead us into, uh... temptation?"

"Not exactly, boy."

"I don't understand."

Curtis took a long sip of his medicinal cola. "Elwood, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. The more you understand women, the less you understand them."

Elwood looked confused, as his teacher of life continued.

"None of you boys - not you, not Jake - are ever gonna learn about women in one of those magazines. I mean _really_ learn about women."

Elwood looked down at his own magazine. For a minute he just tried to let the words sink in. He silently worked through the logic in his mind. Finally, staring down at the black Thunderbird, he understood.

_You don't learn about a car looking at a picture in the magazine. You gotta learn to drive. You gotta open the hood, and figure out what makes its motor run. Only then you'll figure out how fast it'll really go._

Elwood closed the magazine. Without saying a word, he got up from his seat, walked across the room, opened the furnace door, and tossed the February 1961 issue of _Motor Trend_ magazine onto the burning coals.

When he returned to his seat, Curtis asked, gently, "Why'd you do that, Elwood?"

"I'm tired of reading about cars. Looking at pictures. I wanna... I wanna really drive one."

"You're too young, still." Curtis nodded, his hand on the small shoulder. "Give it time..."

Again, wiser than his years, Elwood pieced it together. "I guess the Penguin's scared that Jake's gonna wanna learn how to... uh... drive soon, too."

"There's two types of women in the world, Elwood..."

"The kind you see in the magazines..." Elwood tried to work it out in his head. "...and The Penguin?"

"Well, there's that..." Curtis chuckled. "And there's some ladies who say "yes" and there's those who say "no." You may want to spend your time with the ones who say "yes," but the Lord tells us you should choose the one's who say "No," son."

He looked at Elwood, and for some reason, the man wanted to rethink his answer.

"In the long run, you don't want the pretty one on the cover of the magazine. You want one you can depend on. They're the ones you wanna keep around. They're the ones who'll be there, when you need them."

"Like a good motor, Curtis?"

"Just like a good motor. You see, there's two kinds of women, Elwood. The ones who are easy. The ones you can talk into anything. And then there's the tough ones. The solid ones. The hard-headed ones. And with that kind of woman, there ain't no way to change her mind. She gets her mind set on something, and that's it. No sweet talkin, flowers, candy... nothin's gonna change it. They're the strong ones. And you know what? They'll be the ones to get you through, no matter what."

Elwood looked up.

"Like The Penguin?"

Curtis nodded.

"She loves you boys. You know that."

Elwood squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable.

"She does. It may not seem like it sometimes, but she does! To me, at least, it's clear as night and day. Black and white. So, you boys better listen up, and listen to what she says. You gotta play by her rules. Cause there ain't no way you're gonna change her mind. "

The right corner of Elwood's lip turned down in a frown.

"Elwood, she's gonna wanna keep you boys safe, and she's gonna make sure you stay on the right path. And you won't change that. You can't change that woman's mind. Don't matter what you say, don't matter what you do...

"She's the strongest woman you'll ever know."


	2. Woman 2

**Woman #2: All Dressed in White**

_Lombard, Illinois_

_January 21, 1977, 9:45 pm_

Jake slid into the passenger's side of the 1968 black Fleetwood Cadillac, brushing aside a half a dozen cigarette butts and an empty cigarette pack. It was no easy feat, sliding into the Caddy so effortlessly. But acrobatics were a bit of a specialty for the large man. Slamming the door, he instinctively reached for the cigarette lighter.

"Thanks," Jake mumbled, as he pulled a drag from his cigarette, lighting up. "Can't get a fucking cab out this way to save your life."

Silently, Elwood turned his head and looked at his brother. As he started up the car, the radio turned on. The sound was drowned out by the screeching sound of tires pulling out into the road. Both sounds were too loud for the suburban neighborhood, and they set in motion a domino effect of barking dogs.

"You could have taken the train."

"You wouldn't leave your brother out here, Elwood? Would you?"

Elwood let out a muffled "_Hmph!_", holding in a laugh.

"What the fuck were you doing out here?" Elwood asked dryly at the first traffic light.

"Just fucking around." A few ashes dropped from the cigarette hanging from his mouth, landing on his stomach. Jake looked down, and noticed his white button down shirt was on inside out. And the buttons were misaligned. As if nothing was unusual about it, he began to strip down in the front seat.

"Jesus!" Naked from his pants up, he fiddled with the dashboard. "Where's the heat? It's fucking cold in here! It's January fer Christ's sake!"

"We almost missed the gig." Elwood said calmly.

"Yeah, but we didn't, did we? So, no problem, Elwood! Look. It's green. You taking 88?"

Elwood turned his head again to look at Jake through dark sunglasses.

"We almost missed the gig," Elwood repeated. "Again."

"Aw, come on Elwood. Let's go, before we miss the gig."

A horn behind them echoed Jake's scheduling concerns. Without turning his head towards the road, Elwood punched down on the gas. The black Caddy screeched out and forced its way through the intersection, miraculously avoiding any obstacles that Elwood might have seen had he actually been looking.

Elwood drove in silence, trying to ignore Jake's nervous shifting in his seat.

"I tell you I'm getting married?" Jake mentioned the event as if he had picked up bread at the corner market.

Elwood replied with the same disinterest. "Nope."

"Tomorrow."

"No shit." Elwood glanced over at his brother, shaking his head. "You know her name this time?"

Jake reached into his left pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of white paper, embossed and once neatly folded. He handed it to his brother. Eyes shifting back and forth between paper and the road, Elwood examined the once pretty invitation. Satisfied that it was legitimate, he simply repeated himself.

"No shit."

Jake rolled down the window to toss out the butt of his cigarette. He reached into his pocket again, and pulled out a pair of panties. Shrugging, he tossed them out the window as well.

"Is that who you was with?" Elwood asked, stating what he thought was the obvious. "Tonight?"

"Uh..." Jake paused, thinking up an explanation. None came to him, so he slapped his brother in the arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??"

"What?!" Elwood asked, using his left arm to rub his right, which he used to guide the car.

"What kind of fucking question is that?"

"Knowing you? Probably a good one."

When Elwood turned away, Jake shrugged off the whole question.

"Well, Jake? Are you gonna show up tomorrow? Or not?" It was as if the answer wasn't at all obvious. In fact, when it came to Jake, it really wasn't.

Jake reached for the cigarette lighter again. "She's got it all planned out. China patterns. Limos. Even the fucking flowers."

"No shit."

"Three hundred people." Elwood paused, not knowing how to break it to his brother. "..and a polka band."

Elwood turned and looked at his brother again. "So... What's wrong with a polka band?"

With a grimace, Jake slapped his brother in the arm again. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What?!" Elwood asked, rubbing his arm again. Annoyed at both Jake and the traffic, he pressed down on the accelerator, pulled out past a green Nova and sped onto Highway 88.

Ready to change the subject, Jake reached over and turned up the radio.

"Listen up."

"Taj Mahal..." Elwood noted.

"Yeah. _She Caught the Katy_... You know, we should cover this one." Jake turned the radio up

once again. "I'll run it by the band."

After a few lines, Elwood returned to his brother's impending doom.

"Why'd you talk her into it, Jake?"

Jake looked at his brother, blinked twice, then acted like he couldn't hear over the music. He shook his head quizzically, and pointed at his ears.

"You can hear me, Jake."

Jake began to sing.

_"Crazy bout her, that hard-headed woman..."_

"Why'd you ask her, Jake?"

_"...Hard-headed woman of mine...!!"_

Although no angel himself, Elwood was concerned for his brother. Jake looked at his brother, and raised an eyebrow in response. Knowing the charm that worked so well on the ladies wasn't working on Elwood, he smirked and lowered the music.

"I didn't have to talk her into it. It was all her fucking idea."

Elwood lifted the brim of his hat, wiped a few beads of sweat off his brow, and shook his head in disbelief. He decided to take his hat off in in the car as Jake insisted on using it as his own personal sauna. He tossed it in the back seat.

"_Her_ idea...?"

"Yeah..."

"She asked you...?"

"Yeah..."

Elwood pursed his lips, and nodded slightly. He wasn't buying it.

"She got it stuck in her mind that she was gonna to marry you," Elwood asked, incredulously.

"And then she just ... told you...And you just, like, agreed?"

"Well, yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... but I asked her, first..."

Elwood continued to shake his head. "You stupid dick."

Jake was mildly amused at his new title.

"So..." Elwood continued. "So, do you two _have to _get married?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"No."

"No?"

"Where's this gig, anyway."

"You stupid dick..."

"Hey, it was just bullshit! Come on..."

"Bullshit?"

"Yeah. Bullshit."

"Well, Jake...You could've taken it back...told her you changed your mind..."

"What are you talking about, Elwood?! You can't take shit like that back!"

"Why not?"

"You just can't!!"

Elwood fell silent, and shook his head. Finally he turned to his brother.

"Catholic?"

"Yeah."

"You stupid dick..."

Pulling off the highway, they made their way to Wells Street. Elwood wiped another bead of sweat off his brow, and looked at his brother.

"You gonna get dressed, Jake?"

"Shut up." Jake gathered up his shirt and pulled it on.

"What are you gonna do?" Elwood asked, as they pulled into the parking lot of Uncle Steve's Bar. "You gonna show?"

"I dunno."

"You dunno."

"I could just disappear..."

Elwood smirked, as he turned off the engine. "Disappear..." he echoed.

"But it won't be easy. It's gotta be convincing."

Elwood took a deep sigh, as he reached in the back seat for his hat. "You want me to file the missing persons report?"

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah-up." The two men opened the doors to the Bluesmobile, and climbed out. Over the hood of the car, Jake shouted at his brother.

"Ok. Right. It's settled! I'll talk to the band. Then you call the cops..."

"...After the gig..." Elwood suggested, joining his brother on the sidewalk. "We'll call after the gig."

Jake laughed, and nodded in agreement as they headed for the back door. Elwood held it open.

"And, maybe, you'll want someone else to call," Elwood added, innocently, and as an afterthought. "Maybe Mr. Fabulous..."

"Right. Mr. Fabulous. So, how many violations you got now, Elwood?"

The taller brother shrugged, still holding the door. "Forty?"

"Total?"

"Moving."

Jake could just about fit through the door, squeezing between the door jam and his brother.

And as Jake squeezed past him, Elwood could just about make out the three words that his brother mumbled under his breath as he pushed himself through:

"You stupid dick..."


	3. Woman 3

**Woman #3: White Lies for Jake**

_Public Phone, W. Van Buren St., Chicago, Illinois._

_September 12, 1977, 8:20 pm_

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ma'am. I'm wondering if I could speak to the man of the house."

_"Sorry. He's not here. Who is this?"_

"My name is..." Elwood paused as the sound of the elevated train rattling from above. Perhaps the woman on the line wouldn't ask again?

_"Would you hold on a minute?"_

Elwood Blues reached into his pocket, and nervously fiddled. It was an old habit. But as the time passed, he started feeling around for dimes to feed the pay phone. He checked his watch, and wondered what happened to the woman on the other end of the line. He was relieved when someone returned.

_"Who the hell is this?"_

The woman's voice on the other end of the line was loud, tough, and most notably different than

the first woman Elwood spoke with.

"Um, hello, Ma'am. I'm looking for Mr. Matthew Murphy."

_"Mmmm-hmmmmm? I said, who the hell is this?!"_

"Is he in, Ma'am?"

_"This better not be one of his white hoodlum friends, again! I told you to stop calling here..."_

"No, Ma'am. This is..." Elwood looked around, remembering that the sound of the dial tone usually followed this part of the conversation. "This is, uh... Mr. Sahlins, from the Local Musicians Union 208. Bernard Sahlins."

_"Matt ain't in no music union!"_

"I know, Ma'am. That's why I'm calling..."

_"I don't care who this is! You could be Elvis Presley himself, calling back from the grave... __Matt's not gonna be playing music no more!"_

"Um, Ma'am, if I could just have a word with him."

_"Why don't you do something useful, like track down those good for nothing Blues Brothers! You know, they still owe us money!"_

"Mr. Murphy, Ma'am...? Can I speak with him?"

_"Are you deaf? I just told you, no!"_

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you didn't."

_"Well, I told you he isn't here! What the hell else you want? Now, we can argue all day, but that's that."_

After the click, Elwood held the phone and listened to the dial tone. He didn't want to let go. But after a few long moments, he finally hung up.

Elwood pulled out a list from his pocket, and crossed the last name off.

The band was gone.


	4. Woman 4

Woman #4: White Noise

22 W. Van Buren St., Chicago, Illinois.

November 12th, 1979, 7:45 am

The sound of the train rumbled passed his room. Even on a Saturday, the trains ran early. And here he was, barely getting to sleep after another all night session.

It was one thing when the all night sessions involved music. But they hardly did anymore. This was not alright.

Elwood rolled over and covered his head with a pillow, unable to sleep.

Still, it wasn't the rumble of the tracks that bothered him. The noise didn't keep him awake. It had all become white noise by now. Even the sound of the needle, scratching, repeating at the end of the record on his phonograph melted away into white noise.

The white noise didn't bother him. What bothered him was that the noise offered nothing in return. No soul. No guts. Nothing.

Even his old records faded into the background, when he bothered to take them out of their sleeves and play them. Listening to music just wasn't the same as making it.

He mumbled words of nothing as he rolled over again, flinging the pillow to the side. His eyes were wide open as he lay there thinking.

How long had it been since he had a gig? Since he seriously picked up the harp? How long was it since he really played some music? A few breaths in an out across the metal edge? That was just going through the motions. That was nothing but white noise.

How long had it been since he spoke with anyone in the band? And what about Jake? Jake wasn't the kind of guy who wrote letters.

Elwood's mind was racing this morning. Something was bothering him. More than usual.

Maybe it was just the lingering smell of her cheap perfume. Maybe that was it. The smell of some strange chick's perfume could keep him awake, and mess with his mind. It'd mess up anyone's routine.

Shit. He didn't even remember her name. Did he even get her name? He tried to remember a few

of the lies they swapped the night before, but he had no real memory of it. And the twenty minutes in the back of the Caddy? That, too, was a memory quickly fading. Maybe there was a phone number in his pocket. He'd check later.

Maybe.

All he remembered was that it was all too easy. Even the tried and true prepackaged top-40 pick up lines were coming up empty. Even that was white noise in the background.

"What was it that Curtis once told me? About easy women?" Elwood thought to himself.

"You see, there's two kinds of women, Elwood. The easy ones. They're the ones you can talk into anything. And then there's the tough ones... They'll stand by you, and get you through, no matter what."

Elwood chuckled, as a song came to his mind. His right foot moved as he began to keep time. He reached over to a chair that served double duty as his nightstand. He grabbed his harp, and for the first time in a long while, really started to play.

The harmonica music sang, even though no one was actually singing in the room.

"Crazy 'bout her, that hard-headed woman of mine..."

He once had it all figured out, sitting in Curtis' room at St. Helen's. It all made sense back then. The answers were all so clear. You learn to drive, play a little music... and try not to get caught with your girlie magazines. End of story.

Still, he sometimes forgot those lessons Curtis tried to teach him. Whether you're talking about women or cars, make sure you can trust her... depend upon her... fall back on her. Is she gonna stand the test of time? Who cares what the paint looks like? Check under the hood. Get to know her, inside and out. Nothing else would ever satisfy.

Elwood stared at the ceiling, in a state of shock, clarity, and self-realization.

"You stupid dick!!" Elwood mumbled to himself, as he quickly sat up. "You stupid, stupid dick.. The dames... the cars... the music!! You just can't look and listen. You gotta take her out for a drive! You gotta listen to the engine purr... listen to the music..."

He grabbed an old paper, dated from a few days before. He immediately turned to the classified ads.

- Will Buy and Sell Cars. All makes. All models. All conditions. Top dollar!

- For Sale! New and Used Musical Instruments and Stage Equipment. Professional quality

- City of Mt. Prospect Vehicle Auction. Decommissioned police vehicles. Solid. Sold as is. Auctions, every month.

Without a second thought, he jumped out of bed, and pulled a comb through his dark hair. He

grabbed his black jacket, hat, and sunglasses as he headed out the door.

An old man's voice shouted across the dark lobby of the hotel for men that Elwood called home. "You're out early, boy...!"

"Yeah-up..." Elwood walked by, barely listening anymore.

"Pick me up some Cheez Whiz?"

"Yeah-up. Always do." He jotted Cheez Whiz down on his mental list of things to get today.

"Cheez... And bread... Cheez, white bread, and a microphone."

Elwood climbed into the Caddy, parked around the corner. The music started up, as he revved the engine. He couldn't hear either one in his excitment. He quickly shifted gears and threw it into drive, only to notice he was sandwiched in between two parked cars.

"You son of a bitch..."

The fender on the Caddy was half way off, anyway. Throwing caution to the wind, as usual, Elwood cut a hard left as he pushed the '72 Chevy in front of him out of his way. At least the sound of metal scraping on metal was a change of pace. And at least that sound meant something.

He hit the gas and pulled out, all without even checking in the rear view mirror once.

-End-


End file.
